


touch comes before sight, before speech

by moonatoms



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 15:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonatoms/pseuds/moonatoms
Summary: And then she was kissing him again. Her hand came to rest on the nape of his neck as she pulled herself up, closer. It wasn’t as chaste this time, it wasn’t as passionate as some of the kisses in his life had been but at the same time it was more. So much more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written after 2.11. Re-uploaded because I was asked to.

Her lips were softer than he could have ever imagined. Pliant and warm under his. The kiss lasted just a second, then she pulled away and he missed her warmth immediately. It was strange and scary that, after years of meaningless physical contact, one kiss from her was enough to throw him off balance.

 

He looked down at her. Her eyes were focused on him, the blue orbs a perfect mirror of the ocean that was ebbing and flowing beside them. Her gaze was shy but the lines of her face were soft and open and behind them he could see so much, could see _her_. Could see everything.

 

His throat suddenly felt dry. He, who always knew what to say, always had a comeback, was speechless. Because this woman, this tiny, blonde detective who had stubbornly refused to fall for his charms, who called him out on his bullshit and who never let him get away with anything, who saw him for who he was, meant everything to him. He had tried to ignore it, had fought it and played it down but it was in vain because he had realized that all he truly wanted was for her to be happy. Sex, drugs, parties, all those things that for five years he had thought he desired, would never tire off, suddenly seemed so meaningless. They could not fill the hole of loneliness in his heart, only ever managed to paint over it. It didn’t compare to that feeling he got knowing she _cared_ about him. That there was someone out there who didn’t want all the glitz and glamour, did not want favours or a night of having all their _desires_ fulfilled but who had seen him, all of him and still decided that he was worth her time. Who had gone out of her way to do save his club, expecting nothing in return. Who had opened her arms and given him a place to go to when he had felt lost.

 

And she deserved better. He had spent the entire case trying to prove his worth to her but he had finally realized that he couldn’t because she truly, honestly deserved better than the Lord of Hell, who had been cast out of heaven and condemned to a life of loneliness.

 

What did he have to offer her? How could he ever to live up to that goodness, to that grace that was her?

 

No, he was not worthy of her. And he had told her, even though it hurt, even though he wanted nothing more than to be with her. Because at the end of the day what really mattered was her happiness. And she’d looked at him, eyes full of swirling colour and tears and she’d told him that he was probably right and then, before his brain even had time to register what was happening she had _kissed_ him, all warm and soft and chaste and his heart had stopped.

 

And now she was looking at him, like that and he couldn’t, didn’t know what to say except “Detective” because didn’t she see, didn’t she understand? He was no good for her, he was meant to be punished for eternity. He would just drag her down with him.

 

But at the same time he wanted nothing more than to feel her lips under his again, feel her body align with his like a missing puzzle piece and drown in it, drown in her.

 

And then she was kissing him again. Her hand came to rest on the nape of his neck as she pulled herself up, closer. It wasn’t as chaste this time, it wasn’t as passionate as some of the kisses in his life had been but at the same time it was _more_. So much more. There was no air to breathe between them. It wasn’t a meaningless kiss during sex. It was a reassurance. It was a promise. It was a start. And even if a tiny voice inside his head told him that he should stop. That she was only doing this out of pity. That everything was going to hurt so much more after, he couldn’t. Couldn’t stop. Not when every line of their bodies was touching. Not when she was leaning impossibly closer and a tiny moan escaped her throat. No, he couldn’t stop. He never wanted to stop. He wanted to stay right here on this beach and hold her in his arms forever.

 

He didn’t know how long they stayed like this. Time seemed to have slowed down around them. A bomb could have gone off beside them and he wouldn’t have noticed. Because right now he couldn’t see anything beside her. Nothing mattered but the fact that for a brief moment, he got to hold her, got to memorize all the shapes of her body. He’d have to let her go, he knew, but in this short moment, he had her. It would have to be enough.

 

And then she pulled back, gave him one last peck on the lips and he realized that it could never be. She had ruined him. All the meaningless sex in the world would only ever give him short-lived pleasure, but would never be able to make him feel like this. Warm and cared for and _home_. Right here, on the beach where he had washed up six years earlier, in her arms, he was home.

 

They didn’t speak, just held onto each other. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He’d said it all before. And he didn’t want to shatter the illusion, couldn’t hear her rejection. He wanted to keep this moment, put it in a box deep inside his heart and hide it there. She didn’t speak either and he found himself regarding her closely, trying to read her face, her eyes. Needed to know what she was thinking. At the same time, he didn’t want to know.

 

At long last, she let go off him, stepped back. He could see her trying to compose herself, trying to build up her walls again brick by brick and he swallowed down the disappointment that was rising up in his stomach. Tried to tell himself that it was okay. That at least he had gotten a little taste of her, had gotten to hold her close. That it was already more than he deserved. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t -- he wanted more, everything. Wanted it all too much.

 

He took a deep breath. Tried to put his own mask back on. But it was off-centre and he knew she saw through it, could see it in her gaze. She didn’t say anything though, merely kept regarding him, her face even and closed off.

 

“Come on,” she said after a long while. “I’ll drive you home.”

 

 

* * *

It was chilly outside, too chilly to sit without a coat and she could feel the cold seep into her bones. It was a numbness that spread through her body from her fingers and toes, a welcome contrast to her heart that was feeling _too much_. If she squinted her eyes, she could see a storm brewing on the horizon but maybe, maybe it was just a projection of the turmoil that was raging inside her.

 

She couldn’t stop thinking. Couldn’t stop thinking about him, their conversation, their kiss. Couldn’t silence the noise in her head. The way he had told her that he was not worthy, that she deserved better, quiet and serious like she had never heard him speak before.

 

She had spent the entire case telling herself that it would never work between them. That he was everything she was not, that their lives were too different to ever align properly. But the voice in her head hadn’t managed to drown out her feelings. The jealousy at seeing all of his exes, the dawning realization of just how little it had all meant, knowing, despite what she was telling herself that she was different. That she did know him, the real him, behind his carefully crafted mask. The fear that wouldn’t relinquish the hold on her heart that maybe it was all a game, all a play, that he was just putting effort into it because she hadn’t fallen to his charms like everyone else. The worry that he would tire off her, too.

 

She wasn’t one to open up easily. She guarded her heart carefully, had built up wall upon wall. Didn’t want to get hurt, again. She had decided a long time ago that it was better to never have than to have and to lose. It was easier. It hurt less. But he’d come in and had messed up her carefully crafted plan, had knocked down brick upon brick of her wall. It had become harder and harder to hold onto the pieces. But still, her fear was bigger than what her heart had started to want. He was flaky. He was a playboy. He took home someone different every night. He was arrogant and egotistical and utterly annoying. He pushed her buttons and riled her up. And he was a loyal friend and partner she didn’t want to lose.

 

But then, when she’d almost convinced herself, he had to go and tell her he wasn’t good enough for her. Had proceeded to explain it in great detail. And it wasn’t until then that she realized just how utterly wrong she had been, and he was now. Because he was all of those things he wanted for her. He _cared_ about her. He comforted her when she needed it. He slipped her food during cases because he knew she tended to forget to eat. He had bought her a blue scarf for Christmas because he knew it was her favourite colour. He had sent a bouquet of peonies for her father’s death’s anniversary because he knew she preferred them. He knew every crime scene broke her heart. And while he kept reminding her that her middle name was _boring_ , he knew it and liked using it. And he’d dropped everything when Trixie was in danger, had literally taken a bullet to protect her.

 

No, he wasn’t perfect. He was far from it. There were probably many men out there who were better and more worthy by definition but he _cared_. And he’d been willing to step back to let her be happy, had been willing to stay nothing more than her partner even though it must have been difficult for him to say. Yes, maybe she deserved better. Maybe. She didn’t know. But what she had realized in this moment was that she didn’t _want_ anyone else. He had tried all day to prove himself to her and in that moment he had. And she had kissed him. It had felt wonderful. He had pulled her so close and had poured so much into the kiss her head had been spinning. And when it ended too soon, she hadn’t known what to say. Hadn’t known how to put everything that was in her head into words. Hadn’t known to tell him what she wanted, that she wanted _everything_. Instead, they had walked back to her car in silence and she’d driven him back to Lux and them gone home. And now she was sitting here, on her terrace, staring into the bleary grey of the clouds, feeling like it was all too much. She didn’t regret her decision, no, she had wanted to kiss him. The kiss had been a reassurance. It had been a promise. It had been her telling him that she wanted him, but now she was feeling overwhelmed with her decision because this was it. It was _real_. And it had the potential to blow up in her faces. It had the potential to shatter their hearts. It was scary and she did not know how to deal with it.

 

She felt like she was standing on a ledge knowing that she could fly, high and higher, but knowing just as well that she might crash.

 

 

* * *

Darkness had fallen over the city. He was standing on his balcony staring off into the clouds. A glass of scotch stood untouched on the tray table next to him and the cigarette in the ashtray had long gone out. He hadn’t even noticed, too busy thinking about what had happened this afternoon, wondering what it all meant.

 

She had kissed him. And then she had driven him back to Lux without a word. She had smiled at him when he got out of the car, a tiny smile that lit up her face, but other than that she had not shown any reaction, to anything that had transpired between them.

 

And he had no idea what to think. If she meant it. If it had merely been out of pity. If she wanted to be with him, despite everything. If she didn’t. He didn’t know what to think, only knew that his heart was constricted in his chest and his mind was going 200 miles an hour and he couldn’t, he couldn’t –

He needed to know. Either way, he needed to know. He couldn’t take this, this feeling of being in limbo, being caught somewhere between hope and despair. He needed to know, even if it would finally break his heart. But a part of him, the part that was currently dominant, didn’t want to, didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear her say it had been a mistake. Wanted to keep up the illusion. Wanted to keep alive this tiny, blossoming feeling of hope that was left in his chest.

 

He didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve to be happy. And yet he wanted, wanted it so much.

 

It was all so complicated.

 

In a flash of anger, he picked up the scotch glass next to him, hurled it against the wall. It shattered into thousands of little pieces, a perfect image of the way he was feeling inside.

 

Broken.

 

 

* * *

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, just staring at the glass, breathing in and out harshly, when the piercing “ding” of the elevator cut through the silence.

 

He whipped around. His gaze met hers and he froze. Still looking him in the eye, she stepped out of the elevator. Her long hair was open, tousled blonde locks framing her face like a halo. Her eyes were darker than he had ever seen them and she was looking at him in a way that made his heart beat faster. His breath hitched in his throat. They stood there, both seemingly glued to the floor until his body suddenly remembered that it had legs, and in a few strides he had crossed the distance between them. They looked at each other. A beat passed. Then, without warning, she wrapped herself around him, pulled her head up to meet his and kissed him hard. His lips responded out of their own volition, he deepened the kiss and she moaned in response, the sound shooting straight to his core. Through the haze in his mind he didn’t realize he had been walking her backwards until her body hit the wall next to the elevator with a soft thud and her legs came up to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck and she bent her head to give him better access. Hands coming down from where they had been gripping her shoulder, he reached between them and started to fiddle with the buttons on her blouse.

 

“Wait,” she said suddenly, a little breathless. 

 

He let go of her with lightning speed, moving a step away to put some distance between them. Fisted his hands by his side. Couldn’t believe that, in a matter of moments, he had already ruined it.

 

“I’m sorry, detective,” he apologized quietly. “I let –“

 

She stopped him with a hand on his mouth, stepping closer again. Getting on her toes, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she whispered. “But I need to say something, before anything else happens.”

 

He didn’t respond, just looked at her intently with his almost black eyes and she took a deep breath, grasped his hand in hers, relished in the way her small fingers fit perfectly in the cracks between his.

 

“What you said earlier at the beach...,” she started and he opened his mouth but she held up her hand. “No, please let me finish.”

 

He nodded softly and she felt his fingers curl around hers gingerly. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip for a second as she tried to find the right words.

 

“You said that you are not worthy, that I deserve better, but I don’t think it’s true.” She opened her eyes again, let them meet his, the dark orbs unreadable.

 

“And even if it was,” she continued, “it wouldn’t matter. Because I don’t want someone better, or more worthy, or whatever you want to call them. I want you, Lucifer Morningstar.”

 

She took another deep breath, lifted her hand up to rest against his cheek. “My partner.”

 

She paused for a second, a small smile appearing on her lips. “You have shown me you care so many times and yes, you may be childish and inappropriate and drive me up the wall occasionally and do things I disagree with but fundamentally, you are a good man.”

 

She pushed herself up on her toes once more, leaned closer until there was just a breath of space between them. “I want you,” she repeated. And then she kissed him again. Felt the flutter of his lashes against her cheek, heard the slight hitch of breath in his throat and then, finally, his lips started moving beneath hers. And she hoped he understood.

 

Hoped he understood just how much he meant to her. 

 

 

* * *

It was long past midnight, but he didn’t want to close his eyes, didn’t want to rest. Didn’t want to wake up in the morning to find out that this had all just been a dream.

Beside him, she was stretched out on the bed, hair splayed out on the pillow and legs tangled with his. The dark of the night cast her skin in faint blue light, he could really only make out her silhouette, but it didn’t matter because she was _here_. With him. They hadn’t slept together, no. She had told him she wanted to wait and he had agreed, even if it had gone against everything he knew. Because somehow, for some reason she thought he was good enough for her and he was determined to prove her right, determined to do it differently this time. And while he yearned for it, of course, he was just as content to hold her in his arms, let her rest her head on his chest and hug him close as she slept. It filled him with warmth, like a candle had been ignited deep inside his body that was casting everything in soft light. He’d never felt like this before. Had never understood it. Emotions. Why humans could grow so attached to one person when there were millions of other just like them out there.

 

He’d been so wrong. Because right now, lying here beside her, looking down at the faint outline of her face, he knew that there was nobody _just_ like her out there. And he suddenly understood. It filled him with happiness. And fear. Because it also meant that he had something to lose. And he couldn’t, didn’t want to ever imagine losing her. Being cast out of hell would be nothing compared to the pain that would cause him. The mere thought made him close his eyes because it actually physically _hurt_ to think about it. No, he couldn’t lose her. Wouldn’t. Whatever deal his father would force him to take, whatever punishment he decided to dish out he would take it all if it meant protecting her. He wasn’t even willing to consider anything happening to her.

 

Pulling her closer, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, buried his face in her hair and inhaled the scent. She didn’t smell like flowers or the ocean or other cheesy things romance novels tended to come up with, instead she had her own distinctive smell that he couldn’t define but it was much more comforting. He tried to let it lull him in, tried to relish in the fact that she was here. That somehow, she wanted this as much at him. Despite all the ways in which he was wrong, and not good enough for her, she had _chosen_ him.

 

He didn’t know what was going to happen down the line. Something was going to happen, he was sure. He was the devil; he didn’t get any breaks. Didn’t get happiness. But maybe, maybe it was going to be different. Maybe if they faced it together, it would all work out in the end.

 

He wasn’t usually very optimistic. But when she snuggled closer in her sleep, her hand coming to rest right over his heart he realized that he _had_ to be. Because he wasn’t giving this up without a fight.

 

He wasn’t ever going to give her up without a fight.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Margaret Atwood's "The Blind Assassin".


End file.
